Lost in Time
by gammadolphin
Summary: Castiel is alone after the events of The Song Remains the Same, left to make his own way back to the present from 1978. But the angel is playing wounded, and his power over time is not as precise as it once was. It is all he can do to cling to the one thread that will keep him from getting lost: Dean Winchester's timeline. He just ends up seeing more of it than he ever expected to.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** I got the idea for this story from a gifset series by the very talented tumblr user, thespywhospies. This will be told almost entirely from Castiel's point of view, though I may add Dean or Sam's in at some point. It can be read as friendship or pre-slash for now, but will probably take a turn for the romantic later. Though this is primarily a story about Cas and Dean, I am also very much a fan of Sam, so you will find that he is treated well here, unlike many of the destiel fics that I have read. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Though I highly doubt that it needs saying, nothing from the show belongs to me._

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**Lost in Time**

**Chapter 1**

Castiel's whole body ached as he slowly regained his senses. He had been wounded in battle before, had even been killed once, but he had did not remember ever experiencing this utter lack of awareness. He believed it was what humans called 'unconsciousness'. He did not find it to be an enjoyable sensation.

The angel sat up with a groan and looked around, brow wrinkling in confusion as he took in his surroundings. The room he was in was reminiscent of the motel rooms that Castiel had seen the Winchesters stay in, but something about it seemed off. He searched his hazy mind for a memory of how he had gotten to this strange room, but there was nothing. The last thing he remembered was fighting his way through the raging torrent of time, struggling to protect the oblivious Winchesters from being burned away or torn from him by the raw power. After that, there was only the bright flood of sunlight, and the Winchesters' hazy, concerned faces, then simply blackness.

The angel's journey through time must have cost him. Time travel was difficult enough when he had the might of heaven behind him, but alone Castiel had been forced to exhaust the power of his grace to make the trip. He had very nearly lost himself in the process. He had deemed it worth the risk however, to save the Winchesters and their parents. The angel did not know exactly when the two humans had become so important to him, but somehow it had happened, and he had realized that he was willing to give everything for them. He was still not convinced that it was a good thing. It made him more vulnerable, but when he gazed upon the beauty of Dean's soul, or sat quietly with Sam going over old books or simply watching humanity, he could not bring himself to mind.

But now the Winchesters were gone, and Castiel was alone. He knew instinctively that he was still in the past, but he did not know what had happened to his friends. The angel took a moment to focus more carefully on himself, taking stock of his condition and his powers. He was in a considerable amount of discomfort, and he could feel how weak the power of his grace had become.

He gingerly stretched out his wings one at a time, examining them closely. Though they were sore, and every single feather was ruffled and bent at odd angles, they seemed to be in working condition. Castiel was about to test them out, but was stopped by the sight of a note hastily scrawled on hotel stationary and left on the bedside table.

_Hey Cas,_

_If you're reading this, you woke up before Sam and I could come back for you. Hope you're alright – you looked like crap. We're headed out to our parents' house, so if you're in good enough shape, come find us and lend us a hand. If you can't, just stay put, and we'll come back for you; as long as we don't, you know, die._

_- Dean_

A smile tugged at the corner of Castiel's mouth. The note was very much in Dean's style: blunt, while still managing to convey concern. The angel glanced at the old clock beside the bed, comparing the date on it to the one that Dean had written down in the corner of the note. Worry ripped through him when he realized that three days had passed. It should not have taken the Winchesters that long to stop Anna. Unless they had failed, and failure meant…

No. Conjecture served no purpose. Castiel closed his eyes and extended his senses, hoping to detect the familiar sparks of Sam and Dean's souls. The worry intensified into chilling fear when he could find no sign of them. Even in is weakened state, Castiel should have been able to sense the Winchesters' existence, even if the Enochian symbols on their ribs prevented him from locating their exact position. But there was nothing.

Except…Castiel frowned, deepening his focus. There, at the very edge of his awareness, was the faintest hint of Dean. It would have been undetectable if it had not been coming from so close to the angel's current location. The signal should not have been that weak, and another stab of fear twisted in Castiel's stomach. That weakness could mean that Dean was close to death, in which case, he would need immediate assistance.

The angel took a deep, centering breath, and shook out his wings cautiously. He made the short flight to the source of Dean's essence, swaying unsteadily as he landed on the porch of a neat little house. He heard a sharp gasp and turned to face a young woman, staring at him cautiously with a gardening trowel raised defensively. Castiel, recognizing Mary Winchester, raised his hands in the customary human gesture of peace and surrender. It did not seem to placate her though.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked.

"I'm Castiel," the angel told her distractedly. "I'm looking for my friends, Sam and Dean. Have you seen them? They intended to come looking for you."

He glanced around the small yard, looking for some sign of the boys. He saw nothing but a neatly kept lawn and bright flowerbeds. No gravely wounded Dean, no bloodthirsty enemies, just a wounded angel and a frightened woman. But then the truth dawned on him, and he returned his focus to Mary.

"You're pregnant," he told her wonderingly. That was why he could sense Dean's soul; it was residing inside of Mary. Now that he was so close, the angel could feel the newness of it, the purity that had yet to be darkened by the bleak turmoil of the world.

"What the hell are you?" Mary asked as she backed away, one arm curling protectively over her abdomen.

Despite what Dean had tried to teach him about deceit, Castiel was still not good at coming up with acceptable lies, especially on such short notice. Besides that, Mary had been a hunter, and was therefore familiar with the supernatural.

"I'm an angel of the Lord," he told her gently, echoing some of his first words to Dean. His mother had a reaction similar to that of her son.

"Right," she scoffed, her eyes hard. "And I'm the queen of England."

"I believe that position is currently occupied by someone else," Castiel told her. He remembered Elizabeth's coronation well. He had not been tasked with attending, but he had wanted to see the beginning of what he knew would be a long and successful rule. But when Mary's disbelief became even more pronounced on her features, Castiel realized that she had been using sarcasm. He sighed. He did not have the power to waste on a display of his wings like the one that he had given to Dean in their first encounter.

"Your name is Mary Campbell Winchester," he began, hoping to convince her with the facts instead. "You married John Henry Winchester over four years ago, after you made a deal for his life with the yellow-eyed demon Azazel, who killed both of your parents. You had been praying for heaven's guidance for years before that however, because you did not desire the hunting life that your parents raised you in."

Castiel paused thoughtfully.

"You deserved a better answer," he said, more to himself than to her. "But instead you were set upon by the forces of hell. Had we given you the assistance that you asked for, much suffering could have been avoided. And for that, I am sorry."

Mary stared at him for a long moment, before she slowly relaxed and lowered the trowel.

"An angel?" she repeated softly, awe creeping into her face. She took a hesitant step forward, and in that moment she reminded Castiel powerfully of Sam, and his childish wonder at his first encounter with angels. This time though, Castiel did not feel worthy of the amazement. He felt like a poor excuse for an angel, and an even poorer excuse for a friend to this woman's sons. But this was not the time to go into that.

"Yes. Mary, I'm looking for two men, Sam and Dean," he said, returning to his mission. "I need to know if you have seen them."

Still staring at him, Mary shook her head mutely for a moment before finding her voice.

"N-no. I've mostly been here for the last few days. I've only seen my neighbors."

But something flickered in her eyes, and Castiel looked at her more closely, examining her soul. Her mind bore the marks of angelic interference.

"Would you mind if I searched your memories?" he asked. "I suspect that you know more than you realize."

Wariness closed off Mary's expression, and Castiel hastened to reassure her.

"It won't hurt," he said. "It will not harm you in any way; I just need to know what you've seen."

The young woman relaxed slightly, but still looked cautious.

"Will it hurt the baby?" she asked, looking down at the stomach that did not yet show the presence of the child within.

"No," said Castiel gently, admiring her protectiveness of Dean. She would have made a very good mother, had she been allowed the proper chance. "It will have no effect on your son."

Mary gasped and stared at the angel.

"It's a boy?" she whispered, her eyes glistening. Castiel wondered if he had made an error. Perhaps the Winchesters had wanted their child's gender to remain a surprise. But Mary did not seem upset.

"Yes."

"I'm going to have a son," Mary said quietly, her voice full of tender wonder.

"Your son will be a great man," Castiel told her. The words did not properly convey all that Dean would grow to be, but it was all that he could give to Mary.

"How do you know that?"

Castiel merely smiled gently at Mary, slowly extending two fingers towards her forehead.

"May I?" he asked, halting before he touched her. She nodded slowly, eyes still shining.

Castiel moved his fingers the last few inches, and closed his eyes as he immersed himself in Mary's mind. He ignored the inane surface memories, focusing instead on the iridescent mass that had been tucked away into the back corner of Mary's consciousness. Castiel recognized the sign of hidden memories, and knew that he had been right to look closer. He delved cautiously into the recollections, careful not to shake them loose into Mary's general awareness. Whatever Castiel was about to see, it had been hidden for a reason, and it was probably for the best that Mary continued to forget. She deserved to spend her few remaining years in peace.

Suddenly, Castiel was through the sticky angelic barrier, and he found the memories of Sam and Dean that he had been looking for. The boys had shown up at the Winchester household, much to their mother's dismay. Mary still blamed Dean for what had happened to her parents, and she had not wanted John to be exposed to the supernatural world on which she had firmly turned her back. But it had soon become apparent that Sam and Dean were there to help. When Anna had lured John out of the house, they had gone to protect him, and the four Winchesters had fled to an old Campbell safehouse, where Dean had revealed his and Sam's identities to their mother.

Castiel was stunned by the force of the grief that Mary had felt upon hearing Dean's words. The pain was not because she only had a few years left to live, but because of what happened to her family after her death. She had married John because she had wanted a life completely opposite of the one in which she had grown up. To find out that her children would be forced to join the life she despised was utterly devastating.

And then the angels had come. Anna had enlisted the help of Uriel, still alive in this time. They had attacked the Winchesters. Castiel flinched in horror as he watched his sister plunge a pipe into Sam's stomach in what was clearly a fatal blow. But before he or Mary had any time to feel anything but shock, Michael had arrived, wearing John Winchester's skin. Michael smote Anna and banished Uriel before putting Mary to sleep, and Castiel snapped out of the memory, breathing hard.

"Are you alright?" asked Mary in concern.

Castiel barely registered her words over the storm in his mind. _I've lost them,_ he thought, the words pounding through his brain, tearing through his heart. _I've lost them. I've lost them. I've lost them._

Sam's death played over and over in Castiel's flawless memory, pain tearing through him at the sight of blood pouring from his friend's mouth as that familiar face went pale and slack. But then _Michael_, heaven's most powerful archangel, had gotten involved, and that meant another devastating loss for Castiel. Dean was strong, incredibly so, but Michael was in another class entirely. Castiel did not dare to hope that Dean could have resisted him, especially with Sam dead.

The thought of Dean, locked screaming in a suffocating cage inside his mind, his body controlled by a cold, cruel, mechanical archangel sickened Castiel. And Sam's fate could not be better. Either he was dead, most likely in hell after all that he had done, or he had been resurrected and handed over to Lucifer and was in the same torment as his brother. As the magnitude of what he had lost began to sink in, the agony of his grief stunned Castiel. His breath began to come in sharp gasps as he fought to make sense of the fact that the two people he cared about most were gone, that he had failed them, had let them fall to a fate worse than death.

But maybe…maybe there was a chance that they were alright. Maybe Michael had recognized that the time was not yet right for the Battle of Armageddon. Maybe he had healed Sam, and returned him and Dean to the present, so that they could play their roles there. It was a long shot, Castiel knew, but he would take anything that allowed him to believe that the Winchesters were alive.

He needed to get back to the present, needed to make sure that Sam and Dean were truly safe. Even if Michael had returned them to their proper time, they were still in danger, still needed their guardian angel. But their mother, oblivious to her sons' peril, was staring at Castiel in concern, waiting for him to speak.

"Yes," Castiel answered finally. "Thank you for your assistance, Mary."

He prepared to take flight, hoping that he was strong enough to make it all the way back to 2010, and strong enough to deal with what he found there.

"Wait!" cried Mary, clearly sensing that he was about to leave. "You don't look well. Isn't there anything else I can do to help you?"

Castiel was extremely touched that she would put aside her abhorrence for the supernatural to care for the broken angel that had shown up at her door. He should not have been surprised though. Sam and Dean had to have gotten their propensity to give all that they had from somewhere.

"Trust me, Mary; you have already given me more than you know," said Castiel with a tiny, sad smile. He gazed at her for a moment, realizing that there was one last, small thing that he could give to her. "I will watch over your son."

And with one last look at the incredible woman, Castiel threw himself back into the churning tide of time, praying for the strength to make it back to the Winchesters. He focused on the spark of Dean's soul, following its thread forward as he was buffeted about by the current. Castiel was astonished by how quickly the flight drained his grace. He lost track of where he was, when he was, simply clinging tightly to Dean's timeline. It was not long before Castiel's wings could take him no further, and he was forced to stop, hoping that he had landed in the right year.

The angel looked around after his feet made contact with grassy earth. He seemed to be in an empty field behind a somber brick building. He sighed in frustration, then gasped in surprised as his knees buckled under him. He was unaccustomed to this kind of weakness. He felt a strange pressure in his chest, and his vessel convulsed weakly, emitting a spray of blood from his mouth. Castiel frowned, sure that this could not be a good sign.

"Are you okay, mister?" asked a young voice from behind Castiel.

The angel realized just how weak his senses had gotten. No human should have been able to surprise him like that. He turned his head, startled to find himself staring at a very familiar face. Though it was not so much the face that was familiar, but the soul that shone through it, lighter and less damaged than Castiel remembered, but still instantly recognizable.

"Dean?" he asked, struggling to his feet and staring down at the young boy in front of him. "You're…" safe, innocent, unblemished, happier, _whole_ "small."

Dean instantly grew wary, pulling a knife from his jacket pocket and assuming a defensive stance.

"What are you?" he asked, the bravado almost masking the fear in his voice. "How do you know my name?"

Castiel did not like to see Dean so afraid, so mistrustful of him. He backed away unsteadily, unsure of how to convince this cautious young boy that he was not a threat. Apparently though, his appearance was pitiful enough that he did not have to do anything. As Dean watched the crippled angel stagger weakly away from him, his face began to soften. He stepped forward, and as Castiel began to dissolve into another fit of what he realized were coughs, he felt a small warm hand on his shoulder. Dean kneeled next him as he sank to the ground again.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked. "You look like crap."

Castiel could not help but smile at that, because those were the same words that a much older Dean had left him in that note.

"I feel like crap," the angel told Dean ruefully. "But I'll recover."

Sure enough, his breathing soon eased and his wings stopped feeling like they were about to fall off. He began to rise, anxious to get back, but Dean tugged firmly on his coat, holding him in place.

"Slow down, buddy," the boy said. "I don't know much about sick people, but I do know that it's not a good idea to get up and walk around right after you've been coughing up a lung."

"Don't worry," said Castiel, trying to reassure him. "It was only blood that I was expelling; both of my lungs remain intact."

Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's an expression, dude," he said dryly.

Of course. Because Dean could never express an idea properly; he always had to say something else and expect others to understand him. Apparently, it was a problem that he'd had for his entire life.

"Well regardless, I'll be alright," he told Dean. "I'm stronger than I appear."

"Because you aren't human?"

Castiel glanced sharply at Dean.

"You appeared out of thin air, man," the boy said, raising his hand. "Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. What are you, though?"

"A friend," Castiel replied. He knew that he could not tell the young Winchester who he really was. A random conversation could easily be forgotten, but an encounter with an angel could alter Dean's entire existence. "My name is Cas."

The nickname felt strange on his lips. When Dean had first started to use it, the butchery of his name had been a bit jarring, unfamiliar, but now it filled him with warmth whenever he heard one of the Winchesters use it. The name made him feel special, accepted into a small but remarkable family. It would have felt wrong for this young version of Dean to call him anything else. He just hoped that he would get the chance to hear the old version of Dean call him Cas again.

"Good to meet you, Cas," said Dean.

The angel felt a twinge of sadness. The older Dean was not nearly this trusting. He had tried to kill Castiel several times, and it had been months before the hunter viewed him even remotely as a friend. Castiel did not like to think about what had caused the closing off of Dean's heart, but it had no doubt involved a considerable amount of pain for the young hunter. Eager to distract himself, the angel examined their surroundings again. There really was not much more to look at, other than a row of scraggly trees and a rusty chain link fence bordering the sparse field.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"You don't know?"

"I was uh…pretty out of it," replied Castiel, using a phrase he had heard from the Winchesters. He was not exactly sure what "it" was that he was supposed to be out of, but the phrase seemed to make sense to Dean, because he did not question the angel further.

"Well, we're behind the Elwood County Elementary School."

"Oh." Castiel glanced over at Dean appraisingly. "You're supposed to be inside the Elwood County Elementary School, aren't you?"

"What, you going to turn me in?" asked Dean defensively. "Because I'll tell everyone you're a perve, and you'll get in trouble."

"I have no intention of reporting your behavior to any authority figures," Castiel assured him. "I don't believe that this school is of much use to you anyway."

"Yeah, try telling them that," said Dean, relaxing slightly.

"I doubt that it would be very effective," said Castiel. "They have no reason to listen to me."

He would be willing to try though, if it would make Dean happier. But the young hunter just raised an eyebrow at the angel again.

"You're pretty literal, aren't you?" the boy asked.

Castiel sighed. Dean must have been saying something that he did not mean again. He wished that his friend would at least give him some warning before he did that.

"I suppose I am," the angel replied. "I am still fairly unaccustomed to interacting with people."

"Well, you're not missing much," said Dean, his tone suddenly bitter. The boy tore up a fistful of the grass that the two of them were sitting on, his face stormy. Castiel feared for a moment that the anger was directed at him, but he realized that Dean was glowering not at the angel, but the back of the dingy school building.

"There's a reason you are skipping school on this particular day, isn't there?" he surmised.

Dean sighed and nodded, still frowning at the offending structure. Castiel remained silent, not wanting to press his friend. After a few moments however, words began to spill forth from the boy in a tide that had clearly been building for some time.

"It's just, they all treat me like I'm stupid," he said angrily, tugging up another handful of grass and shredding it in his fingers. "The teachers act like I'll never become anything because I'm not good at math and I don't read as fast as everyone else. They say I should pay more attention in class. Well, maybe I would, if they were teaching anything worth learning. But when am I going to use any of this stuff? Never. I could be spending the time learning useful things, but instead I have to sit in a stuffy room going over multiplication tables a million and one times!"

Dean paused, slightly out of breath from his tirade. He still did not look at Castiel, violently tearing up more grass instead, scattering clods of dirt onto the edge of the angel's trench coat.

"They laughed at me," he muttered eventually.

"Why?"

"Thirteen times seven. Mr. McGallagher asked me what thirteen times seven was, and I didn't know, and everyone laughed at me, including Christina Bell."

This must have been why Dean's reaction was so strong. He could handle insults and challenges, but being derided by someone he probably admired must have wounded the boy deeply. Castiel felt his fingers curl into fists, and a spike of anger pierced him. Whoever this Christina Bell was, she was unworthy of Dean's affections, and should not have had the power to hurt him like this. But there was nothing he could do about it. Dean would not take kindly to having his battles fought for him, and despite his anger, Castiel would not harm a child.

"It's 91," Castiel told Dean, hoping to spare his friend from another such incident. It was apparently the wrong thing to say however, because Dean threw up his hands in frustration, showering them both with bits of grass.

"I know that now, Cas!" he exclaimed. "Despite what everyone thinks, I'm not an idiot. I figured it out, I just couldn't do it in two seconds with everyone watching me."

"I don't think you're an idiot, Dean," said Castiel firmly. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

Dean glanced over at the angel, not seeming to believe him, but his face softening anyway.

"Whatever," he said. "I don't even care. We won't be here much longer."

But this time, Castiel could tell that his friend did not mean what he was saying. Dean's soul was in turmoil, and the angel could sense the boy's hurt, embarrassment, and self-doubt.

"Your teachers are wrong about you," he told Dean. "You will have a future more important than they could have imagined, and you will be a great man."

Dean laughed, though Castiel had not intended for his words to be humorous.

"Yeah right, Cas," Dean said. "I may not be stupid, but I'm nothing special."

Castiel sighed. He had sighed more in the past year and a half than he had in the thousands that had come before them; the cost of growing close to the Winchesters, apparently. But Dean was so wrong about himself. He would grow to be a peerless hunter, brother, and human; a man so remarkable that an angel who had been loyal since his creation would rebel against everything he knew for him. Perhaps his brilliance could not be quantified by human measures, but it was certainly there. But there was not much that he could do about Dean's lack of self-confidence now. He could not tell Dean about his future, and the boy had no reason to trust a stranger.

An angry buzzing sound began to emit from the dull school building, and it was Dean's turn to sigh.

"I have to go to my next class," he said ruefully. "Otherwise they'll call my dad, and he'd be mad."

He clambered to his feet before turning to help Castiel from the ground. But then his face split into a grin. He leaned forward, and Castiel felt small fingers brushing through his hair. The angel leaned into the contact, watching as scraps of greenery fluttered to the ground around him.

"Sorry about that," said Dean, dusting the last of the grass from Castiel's coat. The angel smiled at him, not minding the vegetation, but happy that he could at least bring some measure of amusement to his friend, happy to be close to him and know that for the time being, he was safe.

Castiel accepted Dean's hand, allowing the boy to help him to his feet. He staggered slightly, his vessel informing him in no uncertain terms that he was not fully recovered.

"Are you sure you're gonna be alright, Cas?" asked Dean in concern as he steadied the angel. "You still don't look good."

"I am weaker than I would like," the angel admitted. "But I still have enough strength to get where I need to."

He extended his wings experimentally, and when they did not cause him too much pain, he took off. It was not until he was being buffeted about by the river of time that he realized he probably should have given Dean some kind of farewell. But it was too late to worry about it. It was all that the angel could do to cling to the thread of Dean's timeline, letting it pull him forward to the family that needed him.

But the angel was still weak, and he suddenly found himself tumbling from the timestream. His feet slammed into the ground and he collapsed, scraping his palms on what turned out to be pavement. More blood dribbled from his mouth as he coughed, and Castiel ground his teeth in frustration. Even cut off from heaven, he was still an angel, and this frailty was beneath him.

"Cas?" asked an almost familiar voice.

Castiel whipped his head up, finding himself face to face with what was clearly a teenaged Dean Winchester.

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_**A/N **Thanks for reading! I would love to hear what you think. I'm not sure yet how long this is going to be, but it will definitely have at least a few more chapters._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Cas, you okay?" Dean asked in concern, dropping to his knees beside the angel and grabbing him by the shoulders. He helped Castiel settle onto the ground and used his sleeve to wipe away the blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "Are you hurt anywhere, or is this just your usual crap?"

Usual crap? This should only have been the second time that Dean encountered Castiel. How could there be a "usual"?

"I'm unharmed," he told the teenager. "I just need to rest."

Dean relaxed a little and sat back on his heels, though he left a hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"Um, should I go call 911, or something?"

Castiel looked up to see a girl, most likely also in her teenage years, staring at the two of them uncertainly. Dean glanced back at her impatiently, as if he had forgotten about her presence.

"No, it's okay," he told her. "He's a friend of mine; I'll take care of him. You should probably go home, April."

The girl looked affronted. Castiel did not understand how Dean's comment could have offended her, but then she spoke again.

"Audrey."

"What?" asked Dean, still impatient.

"My name is Audrey, not April."

"Oh. Right."

Audrey stared at him, seeming to expect something more from him. When nothing was forthcoming, she emitted a little huffing noise, turned on her heel, and stalked away, muttering what sounded like 'unbelievable', as well as few unsavory remarks about her taste in males. Castiel could read no true hurt in her though, merely annoyance and disapproval.

"You're sure you're okay, Cas?" Dean asked as soon as she was gone. "This is the worst I've seen you in a long time."

Instead of answering him, Castiel took a closer look at their surroundings. They were in a dim alcove beside a large building, apparently called the Mirkwood Theater, if the glowing sign running down the side was accurate. It was one of the places humans went to see films. Dean and the girl must have been on their way to or from the theater. Castiel had watched humanity enough to know what that meant.

"You were…on a date," said Castiel slowly. He was not sure why the idea felt so odd to him. He knew that Dean had a very active sexual history, had even copulated with Anna before she regained her grace, but never had that knowledge caused this strange, somewhat unpleasant tugging sensation in the angel's chest. Dean looked mildly uncomfortable.

"Well…yeah. I was bored, she was hot, she didn't mind seeing an action movie instead of a chick flick…I didn't know that you were gonna show up, Cas! It hasn't been as long as usual."

"When was the last time you saw me?" Castiel asked in confusion.

"Uh, five, maybe six months ago. You haven't been coming as often lately. I try not to think about it too much."

Castiel stared at Dean. He was certainly not an expert in human growth, but he did know for certain that it took more than six months to change from the boy that Castiel had talked with behind the school, to the lanky young man he was currently facing. This did not bode well for his prospects of getting back to his proper time.

"What year am I in now?" he asked as he got painfully to his feet. Dean rose with him, making sure that he would not topple over. When the angel remained upright, merely swaying slightly, Dean's watchful face relaxed into a grin.

"It's 1997, Batman," he said. Castiel assumed that the name was a reference to something, because Dean certainly seemed to remember his actual name. He was a bit affronted by his comparison of angels to bats though. "Where are you gonna fly to next?"

"2010, hopefully," Castiel replied. "But I'm beginning to suspect that won't happen."

Dean's face was unreadable as he studied Castiel carefully.

"This is the beginning for you, isn't it?" he asked at last. "You just came from that day behind the school."

"How many times have you seen me, Dean?" asked Castiel in quiet desperation. "How long am I doomed to spend trapped in your past?"

"Is it really so bad?" asked Dean, his tone neutral but his soul betraying his hurt. "Spending time with me? I…miss you, Cas. You'll disappear for months, sometimes more than a _year_, and I won't see you, and I hate it. Can't you just _stay_?"

Castiel stared searchingly at Dean, examining his soul more carefully. A tidal wave of unfamiliar emotions crashed through him when he saw the depth of the feelings that the hunter had for him. But it was not just depth. Castiel had seen how Dean felt about Sam, the most important person in his life; he knew what that looked like. But what the angel was seeing in Dean Winchester's soul at the moment was not like that. Not like that at all.

Castiel stumbled away from Dean, shaking his head in confusion and fear. He had done something dreadful to Dean's timeline, had warped it in such a way that the hunter now thought that he was in love with the angel. And worse than that, Castiel found that he was not even sorry. But he should have been. He should not have a warm glow in his core, because his Dean, the one that was probably fighting for his life in the present, would have been disgusted, furious at Castiel for the changes that he had wrought. What had become of that Dean? Had the angel's meddling made him cease to exist?

"Cas, what is it?" asked Dean anxiously, trying to approach the angel.

"What have I done to you?" Castiel asked wretchedly. "What have I done to your _life_?"

He stretched out his wings, fumbling desperately for the entrance to the timestream that would allow him to leave Dean. He caught one last glimpse of the hunter's hurt, confused face, before he was tumbling through the roaring current again. His lack of preparation meant that Castiel was utterly disoriented, unable to determine in which direction he was travelling.

Despite his better judgment, Castiel still clung to Dean's timeline like a life preserver, knowing that he would get irretrievably lost without it. Since he was not so much flying through time as trying to stay afloat in it, Castiel decided to exit the stream, so that he could have the time to prepare properly. He tumbled back into the physical plane, appearing in what looked to be a hotel room like the ones that the Winchesters so often occupied. A brief surge of hope rose in him, and he thought that perhaps he had made it back to his proper time. But then his gaze landed on a young face that should not have been so familiar, and he groaned.

"Dammit, I'm never getting back," he groaned, sinking onto one of the room's musty beds, head dropping into his hands. He was pleased to realize that the pain was not quite as bad as before. Perhaps his weakened body was becoming accustomed to all of this time travel.

"Don't sulk," scolded an adolescent Dean Winchester, walking up to the angel. "You just have to try harder, okay?"

Castiel looked up at him hopelessly.

"Dean, the fact that you know enough to be able to say that to me strongly indicates that trying harder will not be sufficient."

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes.

"So it's one of those days, huh?" he asked, plunking himself down beside Castiel. "Awesome."

"One of _what _days?" the angel asked grumpily.

"Every once in a while, you show up with your trench coat all in a twist, and you grouch about how your powers aren't working and that you're screwing up my life, and blah blah blah. But can we just skip that part today? I want to go to the movies."

Castiel blinked and shook his head, as if that would help to clear it. He studied Dean. The boy appeared to be a few years older than when the angel had met him behind the school, though he was still years from becoming the teenager that Castiel had last encountered. He could only imagine what _that_ version of Dean was thinking of him. This Dean was not in love with him, viewed him merely as a friend, perhaps even an older brother. The change was a relief, as it made things feel simpler, easier for Castiel to handle, and the turmoil inside him calmed slightly.

The angel was slowly coming to accept the fact that he would be stuck in this timeline for a while. Perhaps that did not have to be a bad thing. He had panicked earlier, but he could make this work. He could be a friend to Dean, the guardian that he and Sam deserved. He would just have to be careful about his influence on the boys' lives. And he would be lying if he told himself that spending more time with the Winchesters was not an enjoyable prospect. At least he would get to be with them a little longer, if they really were… But Castiel did not want to consider the possibility that he was fighting so hard to return to a family that was no longer waiting for him. Meeting that pair of hopeful green eyes, Castiel knew that he had made his decision. He just did not know if he had made it for the right reasons.

"What film would you like to see?" he asked with a small smile. That smile grew when Dean's face split into a huge grin, and he jumped up in excitement, pulling the angel up as well and giving him a quick hug.

"The new Batman movie!" he said, already on his way to the door. "It's been out for a whole week, and I haven't seen it yet."

Batman. Interesting. Perhaps now Castiel would understand what Dean had been talking about in 1997. He followed Dean, who was chatting excitedly, out of the motel and through the streets of a small town. He caught a glimpse of a sign beside a bank, proclaiming the date to be June 27, 1992.

The angel was pleasantly surprised to find that the pain continued to recede from his battered body. Perhaps because he had not fought his way through the timestream on his most recent trip, but simply allowed it to carry him, he had not put as much strain on himself and could therefore recover faster.

"Isn't that the movie theater?" Castiel asked, pointing to the building that resembled the one he had appeared beside last time, though it was smaller and cleaner. Dean followed his gaze and nodded.

"Yeah, but we can't go in yet," he told the angel. "The next showing won't start for another half an hour, and we need to pick up Sammy from the library. The nerd has been there all day, even though it's summer. He's been reading for _fun_. I'm not gonna let him miss this though."

Castiel smiled at the prospect of seeing Sam Winchester again. Though his connection with Dean was deeper, forged in hell and strengthened to the point of rebellion, Sam had become like a brother to him, and he had missed his presence.

The angel tailed Dean to a small brick building, identified by a sign at the entrance as the Oakland County Public Library. The two of them found Sam inside, sitting cross-legged between two of the stacks in the history section, small piles of books splayed around him, his face wrinkled in concentration as he focused on the book in his hands. Castiel bent down to check the cover. The title was unfamiliar to him, but the volume seemed to be about the history of dog breeding.

"Hey Sammy," said Dean cheerfully. "Look who stopped by."

The nine year old looked up, a bright smile overtaking his face when he caught sight of the angel.

"Cas!" he cried in delight, leaping up and throwing his arms around Castiel's middle. Castiel returned the hug, rather amused at how small his friend was. Sam was at least two feet shorter than the angel, and if he had any muscles to speak of, they had yet to make an appearance.

"Hello Sam," said Castiel once the boy had released him. "It's good to see you."

"Come on," interrupted Dean. "We're gonna miss the movie."

He started pulling them towards the door, but Sam broke away with a cry of protest, scrambling to pick up the books on the floor so that he could return them to their shelves. Castiel helped him, while Dean rolled his eyes at both of them. Once the task was complete, Sam was happy to follow his big brother and the angel out of the quiet building and back through the town to the movie theater.

"Can you get the tickets, Cas?" asked Dean once they were inside.

"Uh, I don't know how," the angel replied. "I've never had to purchase anything with human currency. I don't have any with me."

_That was always your job_, he thought, but he refrained from vocalizing the statement. It was still strange to see the Winchesters, especially Dean, without any knowledge of the years that they would spend together in the future. It felt like something was missing.

"Oh," said Dean, looking like he was trying to hide disappointment. "It's just, Dad's been on a hunt for the last two weeks, and the food money is running a pretty low, so we um, we can't really…"

"I see," said Castiel, interrupting because Dean seemed to be reluctant to admit that they were struggling financially. He felt a surge of frustration towards John Winchester, angry that the man had not provided for his children properly before he left. Sam and Dean deserved better parents. The angel wondered what the boys' lives would have been like had Mary been the one to survive instead of John. No doubt she would have taken better care of Sam and Dean. Still, speculation was pointless. Mary was dead, John was negligent, and Castiel was there now, so he would do his best to give the Winchesters what they deserved. "I believe I can handle this."

He placed a gentle hand on each boy's shoulder, closing his eyes in concentration. He stretched out his wings carefully, using them to propel the three of them the short distance into the theater. The trip was not overly taxing, as it was only a matter of a dozen yards, and there was no time travel involved.

"Cool!" said Dean in awe once he saw where they were. "Did we just fly?"

"In a manner of speaking," Castiel replied, knowing that there was no point in explaining the nuances of angelic travel to the thirteen year old.

Dean led them to three adjacent seats in the middle of the theater, and he and Sam sank onto the faded cushions. For Castiel however, there was another stop to make. He focused again, making himself invisible before flitting back into the entrance of the building, behind what he believed was called a concession stand. He grabbed the biggest bucket of popcorn available, as well as a bag of small, colorful candies that he had seen Dean eating on occasion. The expressions on the faces of the boys when he returned were well worth the effort it had taken to make the trip. He did not like to think about how little they had been eating lately, trying to make their money last.

"You're the best, Cas; thanks!" said Dean as the angel sat down next to him and handed him the food. "Dude, you even got M&M's!"

He dumped several of the candies into Sam's waiting hands before digging into the bag himself. Then they started in on the popcorn. Castiel could not recall ever seeing someone eat that quickly, nor did he remember taking such satisfaction in watching humans eat. Once again, he wondered what it was about these boys, and the men that they would grow to be, that had changed him so, had made him _care_ more than was ever supposed to be possible for angels.

"This movie's gonna be awesome," Dean told his companions excitedly between mouthfuls. Castiel could feel his seat vibrating as the boy bounced in place, seeming barely able to contain his eagerness.

"He's obsessed with Batman," Sam confided, leaning over his brother to talk to the angel.

"Yeah, 'cause he's _awesome_," said Dean. "Just wait, Cas, you're gonna love it."

"What if this one sucks?" asked Sam. "Lots of sequels suck."

"Shut up, bitch," Dean told him. Coming from anyone else, Castiel knew that the term would be an insult, but the affection in Dean's voice was unmistakable, and Sam seemed unfazed. "There's no way that _Batman Returns_ is going to suck. It's a scientific impossibility for any movie involving Batman to suck."

"Whatever," said Sam, rolling his eyes. "Jerk."

"I don't understand how science-" began Castiel in confusion, but then the screen flashed to life, and Dean's hand flew up to cover the angel's mouth, silencing him without taking his eyes from the glowing screen.

Castiel had never been to see a movie before, but he found the experience fascinating. The science behind the plot was utterly illogical, and yet the story was still compelling. The angel was surprised by his reaction to the film. He found that he was emotionally invested in the characters, pleased when Batman succeeded, angry when his adversaries bested him. Had any of his brothers or sisters told him two years ago that one day Castiel would enjoy spending an afternoon watching a movie with two human children, he would have reported them for insanity. Of course, looking at himself now, Castiel was not confident that the word 'sane' applied to him either.

But equally as entertaining as the film itself were the Winchesters' reactions to it. Though Sam had expressed his doubts about the quality of the movie, Castiel could tell by the way his eyes shone and he leaned forward in his seat that he was enjoying it. Every once in a while though, when the action got intense, he would lean towards his brother, and Dean would put a reassuring arm around his shoulders until Sam shrugged it off. And Dean…Castiel had never seen that expression on his friend's face before. It made him smile. He was genuinely disappointed when the last of the credits vanished from the screen and the theater lights came on.

"So, what did you think?" Dean asked the angel anxiously after they had exited the theater.

"I enjoyed it immensely," Castiel replied sincerely. "And you?"

He knew for a fact that Dean had been enthralled for the entire film, even breaking out into cheers in some places.

"It was awesome!" the boy shouted, earning a few glances from passersby. "Especially when Batman saved that…"

Sam caught Castiel's gaze and rolled his eyes, though there was a fond smile on his face. Dean did not miss the gesture, and he cuffed the back of his brother's head playfully.

"Well, what did you think of it, Catwoman?" he asked. Sam scowled. "You can't lie to me; I saw you smiling."

"Yeah, I was laughing at how much of a doofus you were being," Sam told him. It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. "And I'm not Catwoman."

"Whatever. It's okay Sammy; your secret is safe with me. I won't tell the librarians that you actually liked a movie." Dean turned back to the angel. "Thanks for this, Cas. You really are the best."

The smile that had been growing on his face as he watched the brothers stretched even wider when he met Dean's earnest gaze, and the feeling of warmth that he was beginning to associate with the young hunter rose up once more in his chest.

"You're welcome, Dean," he replied, knowing that he would not be able to convey what the experience had truly meant to him.

"Do you want to come get ice cream with us?" Dean asked hopefully. "I know you don't have to eat, but you can still taste, right? Trust me, you'll love ice cream."

The smile slipped away from Castiel's face. It would be so easy, he knew, to accept Dean's offer, to allow himself to stay just another hour, and another one after that, and yet more after those. If he let himself, he would stay indefinitely. But the Winchesters, _his_ Winchesters, needed him, and he could not fail them again. He needed to keep moving.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said softly, wincing internally as he watched the boy's face fall, and Sam's as well. "But I must continue."

"Yeah, okay," said Dean quietly, looking down and scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. "Sorry, Cas. I know that whatever you're doing is important."

"It is," Castiel agreed. He bent down, forcing his friend to meet his gaze. "But so are you. Please believe me when I say that I would stay here with you if I could."

Dean's expression lightened by a fraction, and he nodded. Sam stepped around his brother to give the angel another hug.

"Bye, Cas," he said. "See you again sometime?"

Castiel was glad that this question at least could be answered well.

"Absolutely," he replied, and both boys smiled.

He was about to reenter the time stream, but the sight of a popcorn crumb on Sam's shirt stopped him. He took wing, travelling not through time, but space, to the nearest store that sold food. He flitted about the shelves at a speed that humans could not process, ceasing only once he had collected enough food to sustain the Winchesters for another two weeks. He flew back to the motel room where he had first arrived, leaving the food on the rickety table. He hoped that the boys would return shortly, as he had included a tub of ice cream, to make up for not going with them after the movie.

And with that, the angel allowed himself to fall into the space between dimensions, feeling the power of time rushing around him. Testing out his earlier theory, he did not try to struggle against the current, simply anchoring himself to Dean's timeline and letting himself be carried along it, hoping that eventually he would find his way back to the family that needed him.

* * *

_**A/N: **As always, thank you for reading. I would really like to hear what you think, if you have a minute. Do you want more fluffy moments with the boys, or would you prefer an angstier progression of the story? There will probably still be a fair bit of both, but I'd like to know what you guys would rather see more of. There will probably be several more chapters of this. Thanks!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Though the journey was not as painful and difficult as his previous ones had been, it was still incredibly draining. All too soon, Castiel was tumbling out of the timestream again. He found himself standing in a wet parking lot, a dump of a motel sitting before him. He gazed at the building, knowing without even needing to extend his senses that Dean was inside it. He wondered if he ought to remain in place, leaving Dean in peace this time. It was an unappealing prospect. He was saved from needing to make the decision by the sound of a now-familiar voice from inside.

"Hey Sammy, I'm going out to get a coke."

"Come on Dean, stop lying," said Sam's young voice. "Who's that guy in the trenchcoat?"

"I don't know. He just shows up sometimes and then disappears."

Sam must not have met the angel yet. It seemed like as good a time as any to introduce himself. Castiel stretched out his wings and let them carry him the short distance into the hotel room. When he landed, he turned to face the younger Winchester.

"Hello Sam," he said with a smile, turning to the boy's older brother and adding "Dean."

He was happy to see them again, but apparently they did not feel the same way. Sam backed away, turning to his brother.

"Dean, he's here," he said, his young voice frightened. "H-help me."

"He won't hurt us," said Dean, walking over to stand beside Sam. He looked up at the angel uncertainly. "Right Cas? Right?"

"Of course not," said Castiel, freezing in place and trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. He must have erred. He should not have assumed that these Winchesters would be as comfortable with him he knew they would be in the future. He did not like being so mistrusted by the humans he cared about. "I would never harm either of you."

Dean relaxed, throwing an arm around Sam's shoulder. They both looked about two years younger than they had the last time Castiel had encountered them.

"See Sammy?" said Dean. "Nothing to worry about. Cas is one of the good guys."

"Okay, I guess," said Sam, seeming willing to trust his brother. Castiel smiled at him again, before sinking onto the couch that he had materialized in front of. While this trip had not been quite as taxing as his previous ones, he was still weary, and taking the weight from his feet was a very welcome relief.

"You need anything, Cas?" asked Dean, noticing the older man's fatigue.

"Nothing that you can provide," the angel replied. "Unless of course you have a way to get me the power I need to make it through twenty years of time unscathed."

"Uh, no; I don't think we do. We do have licorice though." Dean swiped a package of candy from the motel room table and tossed it at the angel, who caught it and looked at it bemusedly. "It's a superfood."

"Oh, dude, don't give him that crap," said Sam. "Give him some good food."

"Licorice _is_ good food, Sammy. You just don't have a refined enough palate to appreciate it. But Cas will. Go on, try some," he encouraged.

The angel pulled a red strip of candy from the packaging and looked at it uncertainly. He glanced up at Sam, who just shook his head in warning, but Dean was watching him hopefully. Castiel sighed and took a bite. Dean smiled but Sam waited, watching carefully as Castiel chewed the rubbery sweet.

It was a struggle not to spit the vile candy out. Castiel regretted his decision to humor Dean. He should have known that Sam would be the more sensible one, even when they were so young. Sam laughed as he watched the angel's face twist in disgust.

"See? Cas thinks it's gross too, Dean," said the younger boy in triumph. Dean glowered at him.

"Whatever," he said sulkily. "I know it's good."

Castiel disagreed with him strongly about that, but by this point he knew better than to vocalize that thought. The incident did at least have the effect of making Sam less wary of him. The young hunter-to-be sat down on the couch next to the angel.

"I could make you a peanut butter and banana sandwich, if you want to try food that actually tastes good," he offered.

"Um, I think I've experimented with human food enough for one day, thank you Sam," Castiel replied. Dean snorted.

"Good call, Cas," he said. "If you thought the licorice was bad…"

Sam pulled a piece of said licorice out of the bag that was still in Castiel's hand, flinging it at his brother's head. Dean caught the candy in his mouth and ate it smugly. Sam burst out laughing and gave the boy a grudging round of applause.

"You two are strangely quite endearing as children," said Castiel, smiling as he looked between the two of them. It was nice to see this light playfulness. It would be a painfully rare occurrence when they got older.

"Yeah, if you look past how annoying this one is," said Dean, ruffling his brother's hair affectionately. Sam batted his hand away, glaring up at him.

"You know Dean, one day I'm going to be taller than you, and you won't be able to reach my head, but I'm going to mess your hair up all the time, and we'll see how you like it," Sam said threateningly. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Never gonna happen, Sammy," he said confidently. "You're always gonna be a shrimp."

Castiel fought to hide his smile. He wondered if he would get to see the moment that Dean realized his little brother was nearly four inches taller than him. There would probably be a considerable amount of bragging involved.

ooooooooooooooooo

The angel spent the rest of the afternoon with the Winchesters. It was longer than he really needed to rest, but he could not bring himself to leave. He enjoyed watching the brothers bicker, or helping Sam with his science homework while Dean accused them both of being nerds, or letting Dean introduce him to comic books, which were apparently the only thing worth reading. It was only when Dean told him that John would be coming home soon that he finally got ready to set off. He had no desire to speak to the eldest Winchester.

"It was nice to meet you, Cas," said Sam as the angel prepared for flight. Castiel smiled at him and Dean.

"And you, Sam," he replied, before letting his wings propel him back into the timestream.

Despite the fact that he was only using his wings to stay afloat, traveling through the raging torrent of time was extremely taxing, and Castiel soon found that he needed a break, or he would not have had the strength to maintain his grip on Dean's timeline. The first thing that the angel registered as he felt himself slip back into material existence was the sound of beeping. The second thing was the sound of singing.

"_And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders. For well you that it's a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder."_

Castiel watched Mary sing, and he felt another Winchester secure a place in his previously simple heart. The young woman was peering down into a bedlike structure, crooning to what Castiel could sense was her infant son. Castiel did not want to interrupt her, but then he realized that the mother was crying as she sang, and that the beeping was coming from numerous pieces of hospital machinery surrounding them, in what was clearly a patient room in a human healthcare facility. This combination of factors could only mean one thing.

"Mary," the angel said urgently, stepping forward. The woman gasped and turned sharply, moving to put herself between her son and the intruder. When she saw who it was though, she relaxed.

"Castiel," she breathed.

"What's wrong with Dean?" demanded Castiel anxiously, moving around Mary so that he could peer into the strange box-bed. The sight that greeted him left him winded, as if someone had stabbed him in the diaphragm.

Dean was tiny and pale, far paler than any human should be. But worse than that was the utter and terrifying stillness of his body. It did not even look as though the infant were breathing. The minuscule body lay in a nest of wires and tubes, needles poking into him and patches over his skin. Castiel reached instinctively into the tangle, not sure what he was doing, but unable to see Dean so sick and alone.

"Wait Castiel, it's not safe to move him," said Mary, reaching out a hand to stop the angel. "Those machines are keeping him alive."

They did not seem to be doing a good job. Castiel pulled the infant out of the box and held him securely in his arms. He placed a gentle hand over Dean's small chest and closed his eyes. The tiny human was weak, dangerously, terrifyingly so. His life force, usually so powerfully present, was flickering alarmingly.

"He's been sick for two weeks," said Mary quietly once she realized that the angel would not relinquish her son. "He had a low fever, and then a cough. But it got really bad two days ago. We brought him here and the doctors say that he had pneumonia. They're giving him antibiotics, but he's still getting worse. And twenty minutes ago he…he stopped breathing. They had to put him on a ventilator, and he's only seven months old."

Mary put a hand over her mouth, fresh tears beginning to spill down her cheeks as she stared at the motionless baby in Castiel's arms.

"Please tell me you can help him," she begged the angel.

"I can help him," Castiel replied absently, reaching for his healing powers. He tried to let those powers flow into Dean, but nothing happened. He frowned and tried again.

"No," he muttered, realizing that his grace was so drained from his trip that he had nothing left with which to heal Dean.

"What's wrong?" asked Mary anxiously. "You just said you could help him! You're an angel, can't you just fix him?"

Castiel opened his eyes and met her gaze helplessly. Once again she reminded him of Sam, and of when the youngest Winchester had looked the angel in the eye and demanded a miracle for Dean after Castiel had allowed him to be grievously injured by Alastair. And just as he had at that time, Castiel was unable to give a satisfactory answer.

"Mary, I'm…not like most angels. I'm…weaker. I don't posses the power that it will take to heal Dean. I thought that I did, but I don't."

Surely this could not be it. Surely Dean would get better on his own. He would survive to adulthood; he had to. But as Castiel felt Dean's life force slipping further and further away, the young soul's hold on its body becoming more tenuous, doubt grew in the angel.

"That's bullshit," said Mary angrily. "You promised me, Castiel. You promised me that you would watch over him. Well, you didn't do that, and you're telling me that you can't heal him now that you finally bothered to show up?"

She was right to be furious with him. It was astounding how many ways he had found to let Dean down. He looked down at the child in his arms. It was impossible to see the astonishing man from Castiel's memory in the sick infant, but the angel could feel the soul that they shared. It was a soul that he would recognize anywhere, that he would be drawn to from anywhere. It was the most important soul in his universe.

He could not let Dean die. The world could not do without Dean Winchester. _Castiel _could not do without Dean Winchester. The angel closed his eyes again, his palm still pressed to the infant's chest. He reached out with his grace, catching hold of Dean's soul as it tried to leave his body. Castiel cradled that soul for a moment. It felt right in his grasp, pure and warm and beautiful in a way that nothing else was. The angel had caught glimpses of it before, but holding it like this was another experience entirely.

But then came the difficult part of the procedure. Normally, Castiel could have used his vast reserves of power to repair Dean's body, purging the illness from it and making it habitable again. But cut off from heaven and weakened by time travel as he was, the angel had no reserves. But maybe he had just enough…

Castiel drew on the power of his core self, the very essence of his grace, his being. He let it flow into Dean's body, healing as it went. The angel smiled as he felt Dean's life force growing stronger, even as he was aware that he himself was becoming dangerously weak. He felt himself fading, everything he had leeching away into the tiny human in his arms and darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision. But he did not stop, pouring himself away until he was sure that Dean was in perfect health. The last thing that he was aware of before he lost his hold on everything and faded into blackness was the sound of crying; powerful, healthy, human cries.

ooooooooooooooooo

"Castiel? Can you hear me?"

Never before had the angel experienced being stroked on the forehead, but he was fairly certain that this was what was currently happening to him. He forced his reluctant eyes open, blinking until he could focus on the relieved face of Mary Winchester.

"Oh, thank God," the young woman said, leaving a warm hand resting on Castiel's hair. "You've been asleep for two days. I was starting to think you might never wake up. Are you alright?"

"Dean," said Castiel, struggling to sit up as he remembered what had happened before his second unintentional foray into unconsciousness. He had to see if Dean was alright.

"He's fine," said Mary. Her tone was soothing, but her grip was steely as she held the angel in place. "He's perfect, Castiel. Whatever you did, it saved him. But apparently it almost killed you, so just relax, will you?"

Castiel settled, realizing that perhaps Mary was right about him needing to rest. There was a strange hollowness in his chest, barely noticeable, but definitely there. No doubt it was the absence of the grace that he had used on Dean, whatever part of it that had failed to replenish. There was something else different too, slight and unidentifiable but surprisingly pleasant.

He glanced around, taking in the plain walls of a hospital room. He must have still been in the facility where he had found Mary and Dean. Oh, if his brothers could see him now, lying in a bed in a building where humans went when they were sick.

"I survived," he mused. He had not been sure that his being could handle being drawn upon like that. The core of an angelic grace was never meant to be tapped in such a way. "That's impressive."

"Yeah," said Mary with a small chuckle. "It's definitely a plus."

"Plus what?"

"I meant that it was a good thing, Castiel."

"Oh." Castiel made not of the phrase for future reference. He wondered if there would ever come a time when he understood all human idioms.

"So you're really alright?" Mary confirmed, her face growing more serious. "You just collapsed. I wasn't even sure if you were breathing. But as soon as you went down, Dean was absolutely fine. What happened?"

"I used my core energy to heal Dean. That power was never intended to be utilized for such a purpose. The effort nearly drained me completely."

Mary stared searchingly at the angel.

"Who are you, Castiel?" she asked finally.

"I'm an angel of the-" he began, surprised that she would forget something like that.

"That's not what I meant," interrupted Mary. "I mean…why…I don't get the sense that angels are really the type to make house calls and sacrifice themselves for random human children."

"Dean is not random," said Castiel sharply.

"Not to me, of course. But why does heaven care about him so much?"

"You're afraid for him," Castiel surmised, studying her anxious face.

"Tell me I have no reason to be," she said, half challenging, half pleading.

"I can't," said Castiel, wondering after he had spoken if this was one of those occasions on which he was supposed to lie. "But I promised you that I would watch over Dean, and I intend to keep that promise."

"I'll hold you to that," said Mary with a small smile. Castiel could not meet her eyes, certain that it would not be advisable to tell her that she only had three years left and would not be able to do what she had just pledged. "I never did thank you though."

"Thank me?" the angel repeated, bewildered.

"For Dean," she clarified. "You saved his life. I don't know what I would have done if he…Anyway, like I said, thank you."

"I did not do it for you," he told her honestly, feeling undeserving of thanks for what had really been a selfish act. He had not saved Dean for Mary's sake, but for his own. It really had not been a difficult choice. He had committed his life to Dean months ago, with his rebellion. Risking it again was not so significant.

Mary's eyebrows rose.

"Okay…" she said, her tone somewhat lighter than before and her gaze discerning.

"Can I see him?" the angel asked hopefully. Though she had told him that Dean was alright, he still had a hollow ache in his chest, and he thought that the sight of Dean in full health would help assuage that. But Mary's expression closed off at his words.

"He's with John," she told the angel. "They're both at home now. Please don't misunderstand me," she hurried to add as she watched his face. "I'm more grateful than you can imagine for what you did, but my husband doesn't know anything about it, and I don't want him to see you and start asking questions that I can't answer."

Castiel sensed her regret. He understood her desire to shield her husband from the truth. He would not be the one to tell her that her efforts were useless.

"I understand," Castiel said, sitting up slowly under Mary's watchful gaze. They shared a small smile when he remained steady. Standing proved to be too lofty a goal however, and Mary had to catch him quickly and ease him back down onto the bed as his legs buckled beneath him.

"Easy," she told him sternly. "Whatever you did, it seems to have taken a lot out of you. It'll probably take more than a microsecond of consciousness before you're ready to be up and about."

"I've been awake for far longer than a microsecond," Castiel informed her, eliciting a rolling of her eyes. Sarcasm, the angel realized belatedly. Perhaps one day he would be able to detect it before responding to it. "Besides, you should get back to your family."

"Yeah," said Mary. "But I'm beginning to think that you might belong in that category."

Castiel looked up at her in surprise.

"You hate the supernatural," he stated in confusion. "And I am an exceptionally supernatural being. Tolerating me because I saved your son is one thing, accepting me as family is quite another."

Mary gave him a sad smile.

"I'm not blind, Castiel," she told him. "Or stupid. I saw the way you looked at Dean. It was like your earth turned around him. And I researched angels, after I met you the first time. A few sources say that you can travel in time. Is that true?"

This was straying into very dangerous territory. Castiel said nothing, once more finding himself unable to meet Mary's eyes. This seemed to be answer enough.

"The Dean you were looking for back then…he was the same as my Dean, wasn't he?" she asked. When Castiel continued to remain silent, she sighed and sat down on the bed next to him. "I suppose it's no good asking you what he's like in the future; I'll just have to be patient on that one. But…can you at least tell me if he's happy?"

Castiel looked down at his hands as he contemplated the question. Was Dean happy? No, in a word. Castiel had seen the misery in the hunter's soul; the pain of losing his family, the weight of all that he had done in hell, the agony wrought by his brother's betrayal and the onset of the apocalypse. Dean was not happy, had probably never truly been happy since he was four years old.

But perhaps…Castiel thought back to the look of satisfaction and serenity on the hunter's face when he watched Sam doing research or sitting on the impala. And he remembered the way Dean would laugh, a whole-body laugh, when he tried to teach the angel something that was normal for humans but befuddled, such as working the remote on a television. Castiel smiled, remembering the pride that had filled them both when he had finally managed to successfully switch to the cartoon channel.

"I believe that he is content," Castiel told Mary at last. The flood of memories made the angel miss the Winchesters more than ever. It was enjoyable to spend time with them when they were young, but he belonged with them in the present.

"Okay," said Mary softly after staring at him searchingly for a moment. "I guess he's lucky to have his very own angel looking out for him."

"I am not sure that 'lucky' is the ideal word to describe Dean," said Castiel ruefully.

"Can I ask what's keeping you from him?"

"That question has a very complex answer," he told Mary. She raised an eyebrow again.

"I'll try to keep up."

Castiel sighed. He had no business telling her about the future, but what harm could it do? And maybe telling her about it would help to relieve some of the strange pressure that had been slowly building inside his chest.

"I suppose the literal answer is that thirty years are keeping us apart, although the exact number changes frequently. But I'm starting to wonder…"

"What?"

Castiel met Mary's gentle, shrewd gaze. He did not know what she was seeing in him, but he was certain that it was more than he was used to sharing.

"I'm not human, Mary," he said eventually. He supposed that this was not exactly a revelation, but the young woman did not interrupt. "I don't know how to…Can I feel like one? Is this what humanity is? This constant uncertainty, this being torn between what you think you want and what you are not sure anymore is right?"

The angel was surprised when Mary let out a soft chuckle and rested her hand on his arm.

"Well, I don't know about humanity," she said. "But that sure does sound a lot like love."

Castiel looked at her sharply. _I am not in love,_ he meant to tell her. What came out instead was: "You don't mind?"

Mary sighed, her face growing more serious.

"Well, it is a little strange for me," she admitted. "Dean is only seven months old here. But for you he isn't, and like I said, I saw the way you looked at him, and I know that you almost died to save him. Now, it seems like all of this is kind of new to you, so I'm just gonna go ahead and tell you that you love Dean. I just don't think you know in what way yet."

Surely that was alright, was it not? God had tasked the angels with being humanity's sentinels, its guardians. It could not be wrong to love them. Castiel just did not know where the boundaries were, in heaven or in his own heart. He found that he did not much care about the first anymore, but the second…He wondered if he would ever understand the way he felt about Dean Winchester. He hoped so, because this lost and bewildered feeling was not pleasant.

"So just be gentle with my son's heart in thirty years while you figure it out. Don't make me come after you," Mary added.

Her tone was light, but her words saddened Castiel. He found that he would have given quite a lot for her to be able to "come after him".

Suddenly unable to bear more conversation with the doomed woman, Castiel stood, remaining upright this time. Mary smiled sadly as she rose with him.

"There's a goodbye coming, isn't there?" she asked.

"I've been told that I am not good at farewells," the angel replied. For all of the time that he had spent watching humanity, he was still unskilled with their customs. Mary's smile lightened and she chuckled.

"That's alright," she told him. "They're no fun anyway. How about a hug instead?"

"Uh, I don't really know how to do that either." He did not think that the rushed embraces of the adolescent Winchesters really counted.

"Well, that's what moms are for," said Mary, extending her arms. "We give really great hugs."

She pulled him into an embrace. Castiel was surprised at how comforting the gesture was. Irrational as it was, Mary's embrace felt like safety, like shelter, like family. He felt a tugging sense of loss when she pulled away.

"Bye, Cas," said Mary, her voice sounding different than it had a moment ago…thicker.

"Goodbye Mary."

It was not until Castiel was slipping through the impossible tide of time that he realized that Mary had called him Cas.

ooooooooooooooooo

Castiel was propelled by the strong need to see Dean again. While he had trusted Mary when she said that her son was fine, the angel was still plagued by the sight of Dean lying still and pale as death in his arms, his soul beginning to drift out of reach. It was almost with relief that Castiel found that he needed to stop, and he let himself fall back into reality.

"Jesus, Cas!" Dean shouted, and the angel found himself being thrown into the passenger door of the impala as the familiar car swerved erratically across the otherwise empty road.

"Hello Dean," Castiel greeted after his friend had regained control. "I apologize for startling you."

"It's okay," said a teenaged Dean, taking a deep breath. "I just wish you could give a little warning before you pop in, that's all."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," said Castiel absently, staring intently at Dean. Something was different, but he could not determine how.

"You okay?" asked Dean, glancing over at Castiel. When their eyes met, his face changed and he slammed his foot on the brakes, bringing the impala to a halt at the side of the road.

"Cas," he whispered, reaching for the angel. When Dean's hand met the skin of his cheek, Castiel gasped. He understood now, what the difference was. Because at Dean's touch, his grace flared up within him, reaching out for the soul of the hunter. Because they were connected. Castiel could feel a piece of Dean's soul, bright and pure, nestled within his core, tucked safely into the energy of his grace. It must have remained within him when the angel had caught Dean's soul to prevent it from moving on. But even more astonishing was the fragment of angelic grace that was residing inside the hunter. Castiel could see its light behind Dean's eyes, latched onto the impossible brightness of his soul. The angel had no idea how he had never seen it before. Or perhaps he had, perhaps that was why he had always found this particular human so compelling. Perhaps part of him had always been able to sense the piece of himself that Dean had been safeguarding since infancy.

"What is this?" Dean asked, his voice equal parts awed and frightened. "I feel…"

"Like you're seeing me for the first time? Like you and I are two halves yearning to be made whole?" finished Castiel. Even though he knew the reason behind it, the angel was having a difficult time convincing himself that this nearly irresistible attraction was not real.

"Yeah," said Dean dazedly, hesitantly drawing closer to Castiel. Though the proximity sent a fresh tide of contentment through him, the angel forced himself to pull away.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said, his voice sounding strange to him. "I did this to you."

"Did what?" asked Dean, looking bewildered and hopeful and longing and scared at the same time.

"I believe that your soul and my grace have become…entangled."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that I need a moment to figure this out," Castiel told Dean, holding up a hand for silence and closing his eyes so that he could focus on the tangle of energy that was binding them together. He caught hold of the piece of his grace that was inhabiting Dean's chest, tugging gently. It was far more difficult than he had expected to extricate the fragment. It had been a part of Dean for so long that it had started to merge with his essence, and his soul clung to it, unwilling to relinquish its hold.

Castiel realized that it would be nearly impossible for him to remove the entire piece without harming Dean. He left most of it in place, but he drained some of its power, hopefully lessening its influence on both Dean and Castiel. But then it was time to deal with his own condition. He turned his focus inward, grasping the scrap of Dean's soul that had caught hold within him. Because it had not been in his core for long, it was easier to untangle from his grace. But as he let it flow back into Dean, the cold emptiness that it left behind began to overwhelm the angel. He could not resist leaving just a sliver of Dean's soul in his own chest, his grace wrapped around it possessively. Surely if Dean could keep a part of Castiel's grace, the angel was entitled to a fragment of his soul as well.

He knew that the procedure had been effective when he heard Dean sigh in relief and felt him ease back in his seat. The angel could sense the difference as well, no longer feeling pulled irresistibly towards the hunter. Castiel opened his eyes, hoping to meet that familiar set of green ones, but Dean was not looking at him, instead staring out of the windshield with his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

"Dean?" asked Castiel.

"I'm fine," the hunter replied, obviously hearing the concern in the question.

"I'm sorry," said Castiel again. The words felt insufficient, but he did not know what else to say.

"Don't be," said Dean quickly, glancing over at the angel. "I'm not mad at you, I just…this is a lot to process, you know?"

"Perhaps we could take a walk," suggested Castiel. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell is a walk supposed to do?" he asked.

"I don't know. It seems to be what humans do when they need to think about things."

"You're not human, Cas."

"I seem to be getting closer every day," the angel replied softly, feeling his grace curling even tighter around the fragment of Dean's soul that he had been unwilling to give up. Where would it end?

Castiel felt Dean's piercing gaze upon him, and it was his turn to stare out of the window.

"You know what, maybe we should take that walk."

* * *

_**A/N: **Thanks for reading! I hope you like the story so far. This will probably be the last chapter with Mary, I just could not resist writing a little more with her. I would really appreciate a review if you have a minute. If not, I'll see you next chapter._


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** Hello again, everyone. I'm sorry that it took me so long to update this, but I hope that you enjoy the new chapter!_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Dean parked the car more securely on the shoulder, then he and the angel set off down a narrow trail that led through the woods beside the road.

"Where are we?" asked Castiel, glancing at their surroundings. He could hear the steady rush of water, and he knew that the ocean was close by. He found himself hoping that the trail led to a beach. It had been far too long since Castiel had seen the sea.

"Cape Disappointment, Washington," replied Dean. "And it's February of 1997, by the way."

"That seems like an odd choice for a name," Castiel mused. "Unless it really is disappointing, I suppose."

"Actually, I've heard that it's beautiful," said Dean. "Well, maybe not so much in February, but still…"

They were both silent for a long moment. Finally Dean sighed.

"We're both avoiding it," he said. Castiel sighed as well.

"I'm finding that I don't know how to begin," he admitted.

"Well, you could start by telling me how my soul and your grace became "entangled"." He emphasized the word by making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. Castiel filed away the gesture for use in the future. Then he began to explain to Dean what had happened in that hospital in 1979.

The hunter was silent throughout the story, and still said nothing after Castiel had finished speaking. The two of them had nearly made it to the beach that was indeed their destination before Dean finally started talking.

"What was she like?" he asked. Castiel knew instantly who the hunter was talking about. He supposed he should have expected Dean to be curious about his mother. His only memories of her had to be extremely limited.

"She was extraordinary," the angel said honestly. "She was brave and wise and caring. And she loved you very much."

Dean was silent again. Castiel did not want to push the young man, but after a few minutes, he began to worry.

"Dean?"

"I'm with you, Cas," Dean replied, not looking at the angel. "I'm just…I know you can't control this time travel thing of yours, and you won't tell me where you started, but…can't you just _try_? Can't you try to go to that night, or just get as close as you can and wait? You could warn her, protect her-"

"Dean," Castiel said again. The hunter broke off, finally looking at the angel. The tears that had appeared in his eyes felt like physical blows. "I'm sorry."

How often he was saying that now. He watched as Dean's shoulders sagged, the breath leaving his body in an ancient sigh.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice full of tears and hurt. "I get it, Cas."

He tried to turn away, but Castiel could see his shoulders shaking. The angel stepped forward hesitantly, then pulled Dean into a hug that he hoped was close to the one that Mary had given him. At first Dean was stiff in his embrace, and Castiel wondered if he had done something wrong. But then he heard the hunter pull in a deep breath, and felt the young man's arms wrapping around him, his hands bunching in the fabric of the angel's trenchcoat. Castiel closed his eyes, extending his tender wings so that they enveloped Dean. It was all the protection that he could offer the man who had already been so abused by the world.

They stood like that for a long moment as Dean's silent sobs calmed. The angel wished that he could do more to bring comfort to the man in his embrace. As if in response to his thought, his grace warmed within him, and he could sense the corresponding piece inside Dean flaring up in response. This drew a chuckle from the hunter, who pulled away, wiping his eyes.

"That's gonna take some getting used to," he said.

"I could go back in; try to remove a greater-" Castiel began, feeling guilty for not trying harder to put Dean back together properly.

"No, Cas," interrupted Dean hastily. "I don't mind. It's weird, but it's good weird. It feels nice."

"It was wrong of me to do this to you," said Castiel. "You deserve to choose your own path, not to be marked by an angel in your infancy." He thought back to the only other time he had seen Dean when he was of an age to be involved romantically. He had completely ignored that girl when Castiel had appeared, had not even really cared about her to begin with. "I've probably ruined all of your other relationships."

"Cas, I never stay in one place more than a month or two. I wouldn't have had any other meaningful relationships anyway. And this, whatever it is that I have with you, it feels better than anything I've ever had."

Castiel looked away, feeling guilty about the thrill that went through him at Dean's words.

"Hey," said Dean, stepping back into the angel's line of sight. "Tell me you don't feel the same, and I'll back off."

Castiel stared at him helplessly. It would be so much easier for both of them if he could tell Dean that he was indifferent. But he could not. He was still not sure how to qualify his feelings, but there was no more denying the fact that they were there. And he treasured this newfound bond with the hunter, surprised by how strong those feelings were turning out to be. When he did not answer, Dean's face split into a smile.

"There, you see? We can figure this out, whatever it is. It'll work out. I just know…I know you belong with me."

Castiel stared at him, a smile tugging irresistibly at the corners of his mouth. Dean's smile grew, and he laced his fingers through the angel's, glancing at his face to make sure that it was okay. When Castiel raised no objections, the hunter began to tug him towards the open stretch of sand and sea.

The entire beach was deserted aside from the two of them. The angel and the hunter walked beside the steely gray water. Castiel pulled in a deep breath, not needing the oxygen, but enjoying scent of the ocean. But then he noticed that Dean was shaking again. He looked at the young man's face, concerned that he was crying again, but Dean did not seem to be in distress.

"You're cold," Castiel stated, finally recognizing the shivers for what they were.

"Well, it is February, Cas," Dean said with a wry grin. "But I'm fine. I don't want to leave yet."

"I didn't say anything about leaving," said Castiel. Letting go of Dean's hand, he shrugged out of the trenchcoat that he had been wearing for more than a year. He wrapped the thick fabric around Dean's shoulders. The hunter looked over at him, an amused smile playing around his lips.

"You're giving me your jacket?" he asked.

"You were cold," Castiel repeated. "I didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Such a gentleman." Castiel could hear the teasing in Dean's voice.

"Did I do something wrong?" the angel asked uncertainly.

"No, Cas," said Dean, settling the coat more firmly around his body. "You did something remarkably human."

He glanced down at the trenchcoat around his shoulders and chuckled.

"Just like old times, isn't it?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

Dean glanced at the angel in surprise.

"Has that not happened for you yet?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Castiel replied. Dean laughed.

"Then you are in for an awesome surprise. Watch out for 1988."

He chuckled again. Castiel squinted at the young man, as if that would help to pry the truth from him.

"Yeah, annoying isn't it?" asked Dean, noticing his expression. "When someone knows something about your future, but won't tell you."

Castiel was not very good at recognizing subtle hints, but even he could not fail to notice that.

"Dean…"

The hunter sighed.

"I know, I know; you don't want to screw with my timeline too much, foreknowledge is dangerous, yada yada yada. Whatever. Doesn't mean that you can't have a taste of your own medicine."

"But neither of us is sick."

Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"We're going to have to work on those figures of speech, Cas," he told the angel.

"Maybe you should work on making more sense," Castiel retorted. Dean laughed.

"Fair enough."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence.

"How much do you know about me, Dean?" asked Castiel after a few minutes. Dean glanced at him thoughtfully.

"Not as much as I'd like," he replied. "I know that you're an angel, I know that you've been travelling in time. My time. And I know that we're family.

Castiel smiled. There was that word again. Family. He'd always had a family, in his brothers and sisters, but what he had with the Winchesters was different, driven less by duty and more by what he was starting to identify as love.

"I spend so much time wondering about you, but when you show up I never know what to ask. You don't seem to like it, and I try not to give you any reasons to leave earlier than you would anyway."

Castiel sighed. Dean should not have to spend his life wondering about the angel who had latched onto his timeline.

""You may ask me anything," he told Dean. "I will answer you truthfully, or not at all."

"Okay," said Dean, a smile beginning to bloom on his face. "What questions won't you answer?"

Castiel smiled ruefully in return. He should have been expecting that.

"If I think the answer will hurt you, I won't give it," he replied. Dean's eyebrows raised.

"What are you always so afraid of, Cas?" he asked. "What could you possibly do to me?"

Castiel stared at the hunter for a long moment. He looked so much like the Dean that the angel had left, the Dean he feared he was erasing with every moment spent in the past.

"I'm afraid of losing you," he said at last.

"I'm right here, Cas. You're the one who always leaves. How could you lose me?"

The angel stopped walking, struggling with his consternation. Dean, no matter what version, deserved answers. But what would those answers do to him? What had Castiel already done? But staring at Dean now, seeing the light of their entwined grace and soul behind his eyes, the angel knew that they had already passed the point of no return. The hunter may as well know how and why.

"Dean, you've known me for your entire life," he began. "But when I met you for the first time, you were 29 years old. And you had no idea who I was."

"What?" asked Dean incredulously. "That's impossible. You're pretty unforgettable."

Castiel smiled faintly at the compliment.

"Thank you, Dean," he replied. "But nevertheless, you did not know who I was."

Castiel vividly remembered the hostility in the hunter's eyes during their first encounter, remembered the knife plunged viciously into his chest. He supposed now that he should not have made such a threatening entrance, should not have rendered Bobby Singer unconscious, but it had seemed the most efficient way to talk to Dean privately. He had not accounted for the fact that seeming to harm Dean's family was one of the quickest ways to incur his wrath.

"But what does that mean?" asked the seventeen year old Dean uncertainly, staring at his angel. "Is something going to happen to me between now and then; am I just going to forget you?"

"I don't think so," said Castiel slowly. "Time is fluid. I think that I am changing it by being here."

"That's why you're always so worried about screwing up my life," said Dean, understanding beginning to dawn in his eyes. "You're worried about future me, the one who didn't know you."

"Yes," said Castiel with a sigh. "It is always dangerous to meddle with time, and when it's you and Sam at risk…"

"Sammy?" said Dean, concern for his brother flashing across his face. "What's wrong with Sam?"

"Nothing," Castiel assured him hastily. He desperately hoped that he was telling the truth. He blinked away the memory of Sam collapsing dead to the floor, a pipe thrust through his abdomen. "Sam is fine. But my first version of him did not know me either, and it is his past that I am changing as well."

"Oh," said Dean, relaxing slightly. He paused thoughtfully for a long moment before finally speaking. "Look, Cas. I can't say that I'm not a little…weirded out by the fact that some version of me and Sammy might be ceasing to exist, but I do know that if they didn't grow up with you around, then we don't want to be them."

"Dean-"

"No, Cas!" interrupted Dean forcefully. "You've made our lives better, and I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose _you_, just because you're worried about changing me. Because you have changed me, Cas, and there's no going back from it. I don't want to go back."

Castiel could not prevent the surge of warmth that rushed through him at Dean's words. Dean smiled, and Castiel realized that the piece of his grace had flared up again in response.

"See?" said Dean, tapping his chest. "I definitely wouldn't want to miss this."

Castiel smiled. He still was not sure whether or not he should be ashamed of how he felt about Dean, of how much he was interfering with the hunter's timeline. But he realized that either way, it made no difference. Castiel was not strong enough to change anything.

Dean's smile widened when he saw the acquiescence in the angel's eyes.

"So are we done with the deep stuff?" he asked hopefully.

"I suppose so."

"Good, because I have more questions," said Dean, setting off down the beach again.

"Okay," said Castiel cautiously, starting after Dean.

"I'm still taller than Sammy in the future, right?"

Castiel burst into his first ever fit of laughter.

ooooooooooooooooo

Dean and Castiel spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach. Sometimes they talked, though Castiel tried to avoid the subject of the future as much as possible, and Dean did not pry. The rest of the time they simply spent enjoying each other's company. But as the light began to dwindle, Dean insisted that they leave.

"What's wrong?" asked Castiel as they made their way back to the car.

"Nothing, Cas. But I'm not watching the sunset on the beach with you. No way is my life turning into _that_ much of a chick-flick. Besides, Sam is back at the hotel, and he'll want to see you too."

Castiel did not understand Dean's reluctance to see the sunset, but he did not mind. He would be happy to see Sam as well. It was not until they had reached the impala that the angel paused, reality coming back to him in an ugly rush.

"Dean," he said softly. The tone of his voice must have alarmed the hunter, because this time it was he who asked what was wrong.

"I can't return to your hotel with you," he said reluctantly.

"What? Why not?" asked Dean, the hurt evident in his voice.

"Regardless of what I have or have not changed, I still need to return to the future."

"But why?" Dean's voice was almost angry as he grabbed the angel's sleeve. "Just get there the normal way. _Live_ the years between now and then, instead of just popping in and out of them."

"I _can't_, Dean," said Castiel helplessly.

"_Why?_"

There were so many reasons why, so much that would happen in the thirteen years until the future. The apocalypse, Michael, Lucifer…Castiel had enjoyed pretending so much that he had nearly forgotten about the future that he had given up so much to protect. If he stayed, tried to alter things, the archangels would find another way to bring about the end of days. One of the first steps of that way would probably be killing Castiel, and then who would protect the Winchesters? Besides, if there was any chance that the original Sam and Dean were still out there in the future, needing him…he had to help them if he could. There was also the fact that this version of Dean was only seventeen years old. Despite what the hunter may have thought he wanted at the moment, Castiel still did not feel right about taking his choices away. He was still essentially a child.

"I just can't," he told Dean. "I'm sorry. Don't worry, you will see me again."

"No, Cas, wait!" he heard Dean shout, but he had already let himself slip back into the timestream.

He barely even registered the pain of the trip this time. He just clung obstinately to Dean's familiar timeline, dropping back into reality when he needed a rest.

"Cas?"

The angel could not help but feel the smallest twinge of relief when he recognized the voice. Relief because it did not belong to Dean, and that meant uncomplicated.

"Sam," he greeted, raising his gaze to meet that of the youngest Winchester. They were in a dark room, but Castiel could tell that the boy was the oldest the angel had seen him aside from in the present, perhaps about fourteen or fifteen.

"Hey," his friend said quietly, a weary smile flashing across his face. "Sit; you look tired."

"So do you," said Castiel, examining the young man more closely. "What's wrong?"

Sam sighed, jerking a thumb towards the bed behind him. Castiel had not realized that it was occupied, but when he caught sight of the familiar profile, dread hit him in the pit of his stomach.

"Dean!" he said urgently, rushing forward.

"No, Cas, it's okay," said Sam hurriedly, grasping the angel's shoulder to hold him back. "Dean's fine, he's gonna be fine. He's got a concussion, that's all. He's resting."

Castiel sat back, relieved. He was still not happy about Dean's condition, but he trusted Sam when he said that he would be alright. Sam released the angel's shoulder, sinking down onto his own bed and rubbing at his eyes.

"I have to wake him up every two hours to make sure he doesn't fall into a coma," the young hunter explained. "I don't suppose there's anything you could do?"

"I'm sorry, Sam," said Castiel sincerely, sitting next to Sam. "Last time I healed Dean, it nearly killed me, and it caused…complications. I would try, of course, if he were in life-threatening danger, but with a simple concussion…"

"I understand," said Sam quickly. "It's fine, I've dealt with his concussions before. I know you'd help if you could."

"What happened?" Castiel asked. "Were you two on a hunt?"

"Yeah, with our dad. Black dog. It threw Dean against a tree before Dad could shoot it. Fortunately, my brother has always had a thick skull."

"And where is your father now?" asked the angel, ignoring what he assumed was Sam's attempt at humor.

"Cleaning up. He has to deal with the body of course, but there were also a couple of park rangers nearby who heard the commotion and came running. The black dog was dead by the time they got there, but Dad still has to smooth things over. He should be back by morning, at the latest."

The explanation seemed reasonable enough, but something in Sam's voice suggested that something was wrong. Castiel peered at his friend more closely, trying to discern the problem. He was still not very good at reading human emotions, but this was one that he had seen on Sam's face many times before. Fortunately, it was rarely directed at the angel.

"You're angry at him," stated Castiel. Sam sighed, running his fingers through his hair distractedly.

"I don't know; I guess so," he replied. "I mean, I know that what he's doing has to be done, but I just wish that he would at least pretend to put us before the job sometimes."

"Perhaps he knew that Dean would be safe with you," suggested Castiel, trying to put aside his own anger towards John Winchester. Sam would not have many more years with his father. He should not be spending the few remaining ones in hatred. Besides, the angel knew that when the time came, and Dean's life was hanging in the balance, John would put his family before the job that had consumed his life.

"Maybe," said Sam reluctantly, though Castiel thought that he detected a hint of pride on the young man's face. Then his mouth opened in a yawn, and he stretched his arms above his head. Castiel smiled at his friend, but then froze when he caught a glimpse of red under the edge of the jacket that Sam was wearing.

"What is that?" he asked sharply, reaching for Sam's jacket.

"It's nothing, Cas, I-"

But the angel ignored him, pulling aside the fabric and gritting his teeth at what he found.

"You're injured," he stated unnecessarily, staring at the three crimson slashes in Sam's side.

"Like I said, Cas, it's nothing," said Sam, trying to pull away from his friend's grip. Castiel would not release him, instead tugging open the shredded shirt. The gashes were not deep, but they were ugly and had clearly not been treated. "The black dog just got a good swipe in, that's all."

"Why haven't you taken care of these?" the angel asked. "Why hasn't your _father_ taken care of these?"

He felt like taking back the charitable thoughts that he had been trying to have towards John. The man had left one injured son in the care of the other injured son, not even bothering to attend to Sam.

"He doesn't know. Dean was hurt worse. I can still take care of him."

"I don't doubt that, but it doesn't mean that you don't also need to be taken care of," said Castiel, standing and looking around the small room. "Where do you keep your first aid supplies?"

"Cas, I don't need-"

"Where, Sam?" Castiel's tone brooked no argument, and Sam seemed to realize this. He sighed, laying down and removing the remains of his shirt.

"Bathroom."

"You need stitches," Castiel told his friend once he had returned with the well-stocked first aid kit. While he was not a human doctor, the angel had seen enough battle wounds to know how to handle this one.

"I know," groaned Sam, throwing an arm over his face. "That's why I was putting it off."

Castiel contemplated his friend for a moment, then pressed two fingers gently to the skin beside the deepest cut. He let a small pulse of power seep into the hunter's body. Sam raised his head, peering down at his torso in surprise.

"Wow, that's way better," he said. "What did you do?"

"I merely numbed the area. But that's all I could do with my powers. I still have to put the stitches in."

"Great," said Sam grumpily, settling back again. He was initially silent as Castiel focused intently on his wounds, carefully pulling the torn skin together and securing it shut with thread. After a moment though, he spoke again. "Dean mentioned that he saw you again a few months ago."

Castiel's hands paused in their work for a fraction of a second.

"Oh?" he said questioningly, not sure how he felt about that, not sure how he was supposed to feel about that.

"Yeah. Said you showed up behind a movie theater looking like you'd lost a fight with a train."

"I've never engaged in combat with a train," Castiel told his friend. "And I was certainly never defeated by one. I was simply weakened by my travels through time. I have since learned to how to prevent such injury to myself. Did…did your brother say anything else about our encounter?"

"Just that you were more freaked out than usual. Is everything alright with you?"

"I'm fine, Sam," said Castiel with a small smile, touched by his friend's concern. Perhaps this meant that Dean was not angry with him for his hasty departure that evening.

Castiel clipped the thread on the final stitch, smearing each cut with an antibiotic cream before taping a bandage over them firmly. He reached into the duffel bag at the foot of the bed, extracting a clean shirt and handing it to Sam.

"That feels a lot better," said Sam, sitting up and smiling gratefully at the angel. "Thanks, Cas."

"You're welcome," Castiel replied, standing up and returning the first aid kit to its place in the bathroom. "You should rest," he said when he returned.

"I'm fine," said Sam, shaking his head vigorously. "I need to look after Dean."

"I can do that. I will make sure that he does not fall into a coma, just like you said," the angel told the young hunter. "But how will Dean feel when he wakes up and finds that you've mistreated yourself unnecessarily for his sake? Sleep, Sam. I will watch over you both."

Castiel knew that it was a sign of Sam's trust in him that the young hunter lay back again, glancing over at his sleeping brother before closing his own eyes.

"Thanks," he muttered again, pulling the covers over his small body.

"My pleasure," said the angel softly as he touched two fingers to Sam's forehead, sending him into a restorative, dreamless sleep. He had never before understood that phrase, but he found that he truly did enjoy taking care of his family.

He spent the rest of the night keeping a watchful guard over the sleeping Winchesters. Sam had said to wake Dean up every two hours to check for a coma, but there was no need. Even with his weakened powers, he could monitor Dean's condition, especially with their new connection. The hunter's sleep, though deep, did not stray into the dangerous territory of a coma. Both boys were still slumbering soundly as the sun rose, and the familiar sound of the impala's engine drifted through the silence of the morning, announcing the return of the eldest Winchester.

Castiel went to Sam's side and shook him gently awake, knowing that John would be upset if he returned to find his youngest son sleeping when he had been tasked with watching Dean. He smiled as he watched his friend's hazel eyes blinking open, falling back into the timestream when he heard the sound of a key scraping in the lock of the motel room.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thanks again for reading! I think I am going to wrap this story up in one or two more chapters so that it doesn't drag on, but I might add some oneshots of Castiel's various times with the young Winchesters at the end if there is interest. I would really love some feedback, so let me know what you think. I hope to see you next chapter!_


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